Pus Flavoured Ice Cream
by Incy Little Spider
Summary: What's it like to kill a man? To see the life leave his eyes? Your alone little girl and no-one's ever gonna save you. I hope you like it down here in the mud, cause that's the only place you'll ever stay. JokerxHarley, based off the Joker Blogs.


She couldn't breathe.

Her throat was constricted with cement as the air came rattling out her lungs and past her cracked lips. The room was spinning around her, her vision blurring like runny egg yolk and she couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe.

The mirror...the mirror she was sitting by...showed her shaking blood-soaked hands, her wild, damp eyes...

Oh what a shame. Her lipstick was smearing and so was her eyeliner. She sure looked a frightful mess didn't she? Actually...what did she resemble at the moment? Perhaps an emo-transvestite-panda-bear-clown. The tiny giggle escaped her plush pink lips immediately at the thought of it. She'd...she'd have to tell him that one.

When was he coming back? He'd brought her here before goddammit, where was he? Had the cops got him? Had the Batman strewn him up like fairy lights across the Gotham power-lines? Had he just decided he wanted to fuck around with her again and leave her here to have a fucking nervous breakdown?

He had to come back, he had to come back, he had to come back...he couldn't do this to her again, he couldn't.

Of course he could...

He's ruined your life before...

But he only did it cause he loves you.

He loves you.

Guy didn't...Guy hadn't...she'd just...she'd just thought he did, and he thought he did too but he hadn't, he hadn't, why else would he kill him, it was cause he knew he hadn't really loved her...

Guy...oh if Guy could see her now.

His little Harleen...with her brown roots beginning to show through her long, messy, bottle blond hair. With black tears running down her cheeks and pink stains blotched around her chin and her teeth. Oh his little Harleen, with her hands drenched with blood and her shoes missing, bra-less and looking like a two-dollar whore and how-long-had-it-been-since-she'd-last-had-a-shower or brushed her teeth or shaved or did anything else normal, too long, she was almost looking as dirty as him now...

She wanted to laugh. She had liked those shoes and now they were missing, weren't they, oh what a shame. Maybe...maybe her old patient could come in and slide them back onto her feet like fucking Cinderella...well...if Cinderella had finally snapped and gone on a massacre.

She... She needed to...needed to cry. Her breathing came out in short painful gasps.

Needed him back here with her. Don't want to be alone. Alone in this filthy little apartment. Alone to stare at what she had become in this cracked and grimy mirror.

The chair clattered loudly as she pushed herself violently to her feet. Nearly stumbling, she tottered over towards the bedroom, throwing herself onto the old, pile of greying threadbare, blankets that served as a bed. She pulled them over her face, not comfortable at all on the creaking wooden ground, but not caring in the slightest.

Shit...these blankets smelt _dreadful_. The old uppity Doctor Quinzel wouldn't have been caught dead anywhere near them. Heck, she wouldn't be fucking caught in one of _his _hide-outs, in one of _his _rooms, under a pile of _his _blankets, she wouldn't be caught soaked in blood, hiccuping tears, giggling soggily, longing for him to come back, old uppity Doctor Quinzel would be hanging with Pam, or cuddling with Guy or looking through medical journals or not doing this, she'd never have done this, she'd never have guessed, never have goddamned guessed she could have fallen so far.

How could she have broken like this? Hate and fear. Hate and fear is all she felt. She was disgusting. She was so...goddamned...nothing, nothing, nothing. Worthless, weak, stinking...

And she wound the blankets tight around herself...suffocated herself in his greasy, filthy smell until it filled her head and made her feel like he was right there, arms curled around her neck, digging a knife into her cheek and whispering in her ear about "what card or you Harley? What card are you now?"

The sobs tumbled helplessly through her lips, as she curled the blankets closer and closer to her body, the poison surging through her veins and choking her breath away.

She dreamed of bloodless corpses with wide bugging eyes and spit filled mouths and dripping, pus filled apple cores, wriggling with maggots and worms. When she opened her eyes, she heard the unmistakable, uneven creaking of footsteps outside in the other room and fresh tears trickled down from her already puffy, bloodshot eyes. Her throat felt sticky and raw and she swallowed roughly as he ambled in, looking like he had barely a care in the world. He gave her a quick one-over, scarlet lips stretching upwards, dark eyes crinkling up.

"Looking good Doctor," he purred, grinning down at her like a hungry shark.

She ignored him, sitting up slowly, her head woozy and light. She felt completely and utterly drained and she stared down at her soaking hands. As soon as he had come in...that constant nervous, jittery energy had entered in with him, soaking the air with dark, pulsing tension. This...nerve-racking cloud seemed to follow him around wherever he went. That..._feeling_ of what in the hell was he going to do next, was he going to pounce on her and shove his fingernails in her eyes, just to see them bleed? She tried to swallow evenly, avoiding his eyes, which were boring into the back of her skull, black and unblinking.

She noticed with disinterest, how soggy the side of her white sun-dress had become. When she brought her hand to it, she felt how wet and painful it was and felt the coil of disgust roll up from her toes, through her stomach and up over her spine.

He was stalking over towards her, his eyes alight with some strange sort've electricity, the tip of his tongue toying at the ragged corners of his mouth. She didn't even react as he stuck his head out, staring down at her like some kind've half-starved bird of prey.

"I..." she said and her voice was low and shaking. "I k-k-killed...k-k-killed..."

He was crouching down now, eyes fixed to the blood soaked material, curling grin cracking his torn lips apart, orange teeth shining greasily in the dull light. She resisted the urge to shudder as the long skinny fingers trailed down her dripping side.

"Red is really your color, hunny. You should wear it more often..." his fingers pressed suddenly into the gaping wound and she flinched violently, hand flying to his wrist. She didn't remember how she had done it...probably when she'd been crawling out of one of the broken windows. All she knew was that it hurt like all hell and of course, if something hurt, he was going to prod and prod at it until she unraveled into a sobbing mess on the ground, before him. Literally or otherwise.

"Hmmm," he said in mock interest, sliding his bloodied fingertips between his teeth, eyes glinting like old rusted coins; "that looks _very _painful Miss Quinn..."

"That's a turn on for you, isn't it?" she replied dully, staring down at her hands. His laughter filled her ears, sharp and rusty and wild. His hand slid up her leg, but she barely felt it.

"You know me too well."

She tried to shut him out. He was talking about things that made her feel ill...knives and violence and fear. The world felt heavy and sick...and he was the festering scab in the middle of it, casually toying with the frayed ends of her skirt.

She felt her vision growing woozy. The urge to vomit was bubbling uncontrollably in her stomach...she could probably blame that on the blood loss...or the infection setting in. Or maybe because he was so close to her now and his breath was absolutely foul. He watched her from under strings of greenish hair as her eyes swam in and out of focus and her face slowly drained of its colour...she felt the sweat beginning to dribble down from her hairline and she took one shaky, shuddering breath in.

"Hmmm," he said again, pushing his knuckles into her stomach and tapping at his chin with one cracked nail. "We need to stitch you up, lil'l ragdoll."

He giggled and she stared at him warily, as he pushed her carefully down to lie on her back amongst the blankets. Then he sprang gleefully to his feet. Her stomach did a nervous flip-flop as he nearly skipped for the door, looking like he'd just invited her to play finger-paints and guzzle down red cordial.

"Don't.." she called weakly as clattering sounds echoed throughout the apartment. She gulped in a harsh, ragged breath. They'd played doctor before...it wasn't nearly as fun as you'd expect it to be.

He came back in again and she nearly crawled to the other side of the room in fright. It didn't matter how many days, weeks, months she had spent with him...when he was coming at her with something sharp and pointy in his hands, it was an immediate source of bone-shaking panic.

Breathe in...breathe out...

"I was just...hanging out at the chemist before. We got ourselves some party-makers!"

She squirmed as he flicked out one of his many pocket-knives and picked up a bottle of water, stabbing a few holes in it. The water came pouring out and he splashed it messily over her blood soaked dress and then, maybe cause he was bored, decided to flick some into her face as well, giggling madly. She glared at him, spluttering through her sopping fringe as he sat back on his heels.

"Aw, don't pull a sad face, my little minx..." he was clearly having the time of his life, whether she liked it or not. "We're having _fun _aren't we?"

"Oh yes...we should do this more often," she snapped and he smirked at her from under his black soaked lashes. He flicked her on the nose, like she was a misbehaving puppy.

"You need to...loosen up more hunny."

He picked up what she hoped to God was disinfectant. He glanced at her, seemingly reading her mind.

"I...think this is the right stuff, but it might be...err, lemon juice or...salt...or acid, I dunno."

She tried desperately to wriggle away from him and he looked back down at her innocently.

"Don't worry, I've been a nurse before..."

She paused in her mindless thrashing for a second. She tried to imagine him in a nurse's outfit and her lips curled up into a tiny smile, despite herself. This made him grin from ear to ear, extremely pleased in having amused her in some way shape or form.

"Oh yes, I had to fight the ladies off with a hack-saw...but your the only gal for me, puddin'..."

"Your such a romantic," she sniped, rolling her eyes.

"Oh I know. What do the ladies call me? Jokernova?"

She stared up at the ceiling, biting into her lip as he ripped at the white material to get at the oozing gash. She nearly screamed when he sprayed whatever the hell it was and please make it be disinfectant, all over her aching side.

Then he slid the thin, rusted needle between his teeth and scrambled around for something in his endless pockets, sliding around to trap her legs between his knees just in case she thought of making a break for it. Breath shortening in her chest, squirming against the water-soaked blankets, she felt the tears beginning to collect in the corners of her eyes and she desperately tried to force them back down. He pulled out a spool of rainbow-colored thread and grinned at her with his uneven teeth, the needle clicker-clacking against his scarlet lips.

"Rainbow?" she said warily, helplessly swallowing back sobs.

"Rainbow!" he repeated delightedly. "Now you'll be _colorful! _Isn't it _great_?"

He rearranged his weight as she made a vain attempt to get away from him and the jagged needle between his nails. His tongue flickered out like a snake to wet the end of the string and then he was threading it easily, like he'd done it a thousand times before.

"Don't worry, I like stitching people up. I'm good at it."

"I thought I was supposed to be the doctor?"

The infected scars stretched upwards with amusement. She clenched her eyes shut as the tip of the needle broke her skin. The multi-colored thread pulled tight, as he moved like a jerky spider across her torn flesh.

"Maybe I can tell you where it hurts later on, eh? And then you can kiss it better."

"Yeah maybe. I'm gonna get tetanus from that damn needle..."

"I can give your a shot and a lollipop if you really want..."

Christ...she bet he was making it hurt on purpose...you really didn't have to dig the needle in that far. Her lips pressed together into one thin, white line and her fingers clenched vice-tight around his wrist. He grunted slightly and tugged the thread up, needle poised in mid-air, smirking down at her like all his Christmases had come early.

He finished the stitching up and cut off the spare string with his teeth. Then he floundered around for something else. The woman tried not to whimper, jaw clenched. What in the hell was he doing now? She watched as he popped the lid off a bottle of pills he'd found in his pocket.

"Is that aspirin?" she looked at him suspiciously and he pulled the why-would-you-ever-doubt-me? look, which she probably should've been getting used to by now.

"Of course it is!" he said, cocking one eyebrow. Then he bit his lip and glanced in mock-nervousness from side to side. "Actually...maybe it's Ambien or ecstacy...or maybe...Valium or horse tranquillizer or Viagra or Benedryl or...I dunno. Fun stuff."

He took her palm and poured probably way too much into her outstretched hand. When she wouldn't take them, he simply pushed her wrist up and merrily forced them down her throat. Then he chucked more water at her. She guessed he was just trying to help, in his own deranged sort've way. She still didn't appreciate her skin going clammy under the icy water though.

"See! All better!" he tousled her hair affectionately and she shrugged herself away from his dirty fingernails. "Fingers crossed that was Viagra huh?"

"Viagra doesn't work on girls."

"Does so. You just gotta use your...uh..._imagination_!"

"What if I imagine you getting off me?"

"Huh? Getting off on you?"

God help her, why did she have to blush so bad...

"...it's not funny."

"Is so...hey what about that nude study, huh?"

She pulled the sopping blankets over her head to try to avoid him. She could still hear him of course...smacking his damned lips and sniggering...he scrambled under the blankets with her and she sucked in air, his weight making the stitches pull tight and painful.

"Now?" she snarled. "I look like shit."

"Noooo. Don't be silly. You've never looked more beautiful," he replied like she was a wife fussing over herself in front of a mirror and not a floozy bleeding all over the place, on one of his bedroom floors. She just wanted to sleep and cry without him here making things worse and if he did insist on staying, maybe I don't know be _nice _to her, maybe give her a cuddle and pat her on the head...

And then she was laughing because imagining him acting like a _nice normal boyfriend _or whatever the hell she was supposed to call him, (misterfuckbuddy, good-ol-psycho-bed-mate, stabby-mc-stabbington-guy-who-she-chilled-and-murdered-and-ocassionally-fucked-with or maybe lilcutieslashykins?) it was all so completely ridiculous and he was laughing too, even though he didn't know why, actually he probably did, he somehow got the joke even though she didn't know how and...and...and...

"C'mon...you wanna like, fuck or something?"

The bluntness shouldn't be surprising by now.

"I feel sick."

"Hey, that makes it all the more fun!"

"What, when I'm throwing up on you?"

"Um _yeah_..."

She groaned, pressing her hand to her eye and he pulled it down, pushing his teeth into the soft skin at her throat. When she felt them scrape down her pulse-point, she couldn't control the shiver that wracked through her body. She pushed her palms against his chest, trying to pry him off. He made little clucking noises, like she wasn't behaving herself and then he wrapped his arms around her neck, pushing his face into her skin and she fidgeted slightly beneath him.

"Stop your wriggling, my squirmy little worm. Oh, you smell _niiiccce_..."

"I haven't showered in like..."

She flinched when the teeth bit in.

"Nah uh uh...this is what..." he slid his hand down her belly, "what _nature _is telling you to smell like and _nature _is never wrong. See...if mother nature had it...her way...we'd all smell like we should instead of...washing it down the drain cause it _upsets _people."

"What about your war-paint? What does she think about that?"

His tongue flickered out to swipe at her damp clammy skin and she twisted, shuddering uncontrollably.

"Oh she likes that just fine. She doesn't _appreciate _it when people try to...hide themselves away. That's why she sends them _crazy _so they can finally show their _true colors_..."

He sat up, pulling a switch knife out, snickering when she jerked away from it in fright. He ripped at the bloodied skirt like it was tissue paper, blade clamped between his teeth. She saw a trickle of dark red slide down his chin, as the point dug into his skin.

"Is that...is that...mother nature or sister fate who says that...?"

He pointed a finger at her sternly, switching from doctor to teacher mode instantly.

"Sister fate is a _dirty fraud._"

And his hands were scrambling everywhere, like he didn't know what part of her he wanted to touch and just wanted to touch everything all at once and she arched and sucked in air, because all of this crackling, endless energy was making her stomach lurch and no-one else had ever been this fast and frantic, like the world was burning down around them and this was their last ever possible moment to do this...

"Do you think it was uh..._fate _that your fella died today, li'l Harley?" he hissed, slashing her underwear to ribbons, the blade terrifyingly close to her...she wanted to clamp her knees together cause what if his constantly twitching hand slipped and...

"No sister fate did that, doll-face. Your guy coulda gone home y'know...to his wife and kids, but he _didn't_. Y'know _why_? Cause _you_ decided no mister, your shall _not_. Your not going any single anywhere, never ever again..."

Oh good God and heaven above her...it wasn't fair...it wasn't fucking fair.

There'd been so much..._blood_...and people _screaming_...and his lifeless eyes had bulged out like a dead fish as his life oozed out onto the shiny tile floors.

"What's it like? Pulling the trigger...deciding how his life will tie up, if you so prefer..."

Her eyes were blinded with tears and his mouth and fingers and tongue and teeth were everywhere, everywhere, spit and blood and grease sliding around with the wet sting of their flesh and it was so disgusting, so disgusting and he was dead...dead...dead because of...

"He would still be here if you hadn't decided to pull that trigger, darling..."

"I know..."

Push the ragged remains of her dress up...push her legs apart and she doesn't want to think of the corpse in her mind, so she strokes her hand down his chest and presses between his legs and he takes he wrist and licks her palm in one long, wet stroke and slides it back down...

"And now your trying to...block it all out aren't you? Why dontcha you just _hug it_. It gets so lonely, see...and then it bubbles over and you_ snap _like an_ elastic band._"

His breath hitches just slightly when she grinds her knuckles in just hard enough, feeling him jump into her touch...he licks his lips and she closes her eyes, remembering when everything he used to do, his flickering tongue, his heated glances used to repulse her so badly. They still did...but there was a mixture of sickly curiosity now...his jittery movements and grating voice, like morphine running down her veins, dizzying and completely fascinating and...

"...y'know his..." he coughed slightly, "_little _boy is gonna stay up night after night...longing to meet you...daydreaming about the day he'll be big enough to push his knife between your pretty little eyes and watch you bleed out all over the floor..."

"He won't be expecting little ol' me," she muttered, stroking harder and harder as his breath became shorter and shorter, bucking his hips down into her palm.

"N-no...no...he w-won't...and dya know what?"

"What?"

He grinned lopsidedly, eyelids drooping, hands sliding endlessly over her stomach, under the thin material of her dress and up over her breasts and sides...she whimpered when they brushed up against her fresh, dripping stitches and so he did it again...and again...nails sharp and scratching...

"What?" she repeated and he panted, tongue between his teeth and the fluttering in the base of her stomach grew harsher and harsher.

"You'll be the one...the one...to knock hi-his darling father off his pe-pedastal..."

"Why?" she squeaked with pain when his thumb pushed into her aching side. She twisted madly and he pushed in harder. Oh just think of the blooming black-blue bruises tomorrow...

"His big bad Daddy died, fighting the man in black to death with his bare hands...and that cheating bastard stabbed him in the back, just when he was about to lose...and the angels cried when he fell dead to the floor...he died a hero didn't he?"

She giggled despite herself. He dragged his wet tongue over her collarbone and his teeth bit into her earlobe, sucking and hissing his dreadful words into her mind, polluting it with sticky oil and crackling dust. The ceiling swam in and out of focus, like old melted ice-cream dribbling down the walls.

"Noooo..." she sang...she made quick work of his belt and pants and he kicked them off easily, attacking her neck and slathering her face with his saliva. They pushed their mouths together, a wild mess of clacking teeth and split lips, leaking blood and spit and hot, dirty breath...his scarlet lipstick was staining his teeth and smearing down his chin and he looked terrible and she probably did too, undoubtedly so, of course, of course...

"I killed him..." she gasped, "cute li'l blond slut killed the big man..."

"Yeeesss," he panted. "Daddy got shot by a pretty li'l baby-doll and no-one in Gotham cares."

"No-one," she repeated, the world growing dizzier and dizzier by the second. This was wrong...this was so ungodly wrong.

"And it's all _your _fault..."

Hands sliding under her underwear and now they were gone too and when he pushed against her stomach, he was already leaking everywhere and this was so revolting and she couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe...

"Shit..." she gasped for air as he pulled her legs up...oh God no...his tangled green head disappeared between her thighs and his tongue darted out and his mouth pushed into the red-hot pulsating place between her legs. He sucked and slurped and his tongue wormed in deep and she was a mess of tangled nerve ends, not wanting to scream, her whole body writhing and her stomach was sucking in on itself and the tremors were shaking her body apart...

God Christ is that _teeth _down there, he wouldn't oh fuck he would thesickfuckingbastard oh shitshitshit God please...her eyes rolled up from underneath clenched lids and her hips stuttered up and his giggles were making everything _ohgodchrist_ vibrate and thrum and...

"I'm...I'm c-..."

"No your _not_," he growled, sliding away with a slick pop immediately. She writhed with disappointment, hands flying to curl in his filthy hair, trying to push him back down. He slid out of her grasp, twisting his skinny shoulders around, back arching like a cat stalking it's prey, as he surged up her body. He licked her cheek and pressed his hands next to her head and she curled her legs around his waist, digging her heels into the small of his back.

And the world went white hot with one jolting snap of his hips and her nails clawed at his back and he was moaning into her ear and it was all hot, sliding, stinking flesh and splitting scars and scrambling and hissing...he jerked in madly, with no real rhythm, just a sickly smack of skin on skin and she pushed up and tugged his hair nearly out of the roots...

"And guess what?" he breathed wetly into her ear as white light shone in her vision and the room crackled with dirty, grime-soaked electricity.

"M-mu-mummy'll drink herself into a...ah..." her ass smacked painfully down on the filthy wooden floor and she scrambled for the sheets, sob catching in her throat, clutching them tight, tight, tight.

"...early grave...early grave...wo-wondering...was his last thought of me? Spread out on the kitchen bench?"

"Stoppit..." she spat, nails digging into his neck...his eyes were unnaturally bright...boring holes into her retinas, pushing in again and again and she closed her eyes, feeling the sickness bubble through her like molten lava. His breath became muffled as he pushed his face into her chest.

"And...and...his sweet little daughter...she'll, she'll...grow up fu-fucking old men on all fo-fo-fours in dark alley-ways...lo-looking for her Daddy..." he began giggling madly. "Spread far enough to see what she had for breakfast..."

The bile churned in her stomach as he grabbed the soft pale skin of her breasts between his fingers and twisted hard, his mouth pushing down to take the other into his broken mouth. His hips smacked in sloppily and she was sobbing and thrashing, fingers curled up in his scraggly green hair and she couldn't take it...she couldn't take it anymore...and her head knocked dully on the ground...and her legs kicked up...

"Y-y-your _sick_."

"Aren't we all?"

All of her breath was escaping her. Liquid jelly surged up from the base of her belly, up her spine, where it ached like fire at the back of her throat. Her head knocked down on the wood again, hard enough to make her teeth rattle in her skull and she clenched them shut, tears dribbling from between her eyelids, squeezing him tight enough to pop...

"So what are we?" he whispered softly into her slick, flushed skin. "Another number?"

"No...no..." she was coming, she was coming...ohpleasegod she was unravelling in his arms...

"Queen of Hearts? Wildcard? Clubs?"

Falling, falling...there'd be no-one down there to catch her fall...

"Are you the Death Card, Harley?"

He was curled up against her so close, so close...it was like he wanted to slide under her skin and eat out all her insides, leave her a raw and empty husk and rip out of her stomach again.

"I'm the Death Card..."

She bucked up violently and her insides melted into hot water, as she flopped boneless and helpless in his arms. His hips stuttered in once, twice more and his breath hitched and then all his weight collapsed down on her, stickiness dribbling down her thighs. She pushed uselessly at his shoulders again, but he just mumbled into her wet skin, laughing like she'd just told him the funniest joke in the world. She sniveled hard, pain suddenly shooting down her side all at once. She tried her best to block it out.

They just lay there in the disgusting tangle of blood-come-sweat-and-water drenched blankets, the post-orgasm bliss sizzling angrily in the air. The woman thought half-heartedly that she'd probably get a dead arm if he didn't roll off of her soon. He probably wouldn't though...just to fuck with her...

Sometimes she just felt like she was drowning.

And she curled herself around him, clinging to him like she never wanted to let go. His laughter was growing louder and more uncontrollable as she buried her face into his stinking shoulder.

If she ever hit rock bottom...would he be there to hold her hand? Or point and laugh?

Most likely the latter.

Maybe she just had to accept that already.

* * *

><p>"What's that?"<p>

She was sitting with her legs crossed on the mess of sticky dried blankets and he was standing by the door, taking a big gulp of something. He gargled it around his mouth, humming something loudly at the same time.

"Limeade," he replied and giggled through jagged orange teeth. He giggled so hard, some of the green liquid seeped from the corners of his mouth and went pouring down his chin. It made the last remains of his sweaty make-up run down in messy trails.

"Don't I taste sweet enough?" she asked as he wiped casually at his chin. It was funny looking at him with only old splashes of his face-paint left. She guessed he should've been handsome. His eyes were too...dark and shifting, like snakes were crawling deep inside them. His tongue flickered out too much and his ripped lips curled up over his rotten teeth like a snarling dog. She shivered slightly and looked away.

"You taste just fine. But I like limeade _very_ much."

"Is green your favorite color?"

He rolled his eyes, taking another sip.

"Yeah...and so is red and pink and purple and brown and black and yellow and..."

"Okay," she said, rolling her eyes right back at him, curling her hair tight around her hand. "I get it. Can you put some pants on please?"

He spread his arms and legs out, like he was on a stage in front of a cheering audience.

"Sure I can honey-bunch...but..."

"You won't," she finished for him. Her stomach, thighs and the warm soggy place between her legs stung and throbbed with pain. The stitches in her side were becoming loose already and he noticed her toying with them, blank-eyed and silent.

"I'll fix them up again..."

"No you won't," she told him firmly. "It gets you horny."

"Hey, we can have round two...!"

"No we won't."

He skipped over towards her happily, like he had springs in his feet. She had no idea how he still had so much damn energy, even after all the killing and fucking.

"Your no fun," he chirped. "Dare me to run around the streets with no pants on?"

"Batman wouldn't be happy with you," she snarked back immediately. He spun around on the spot and flopped down beside her, kicking his feet up. He was wearing his multi-colored socks.

"Batman would be thrilled," he replied. "He loves me. He just doesn't know it yet."

She just stared at him.

"Did you fuck me with novelty socks on?"

He let out a mad peal of laughter.

"Your fucking crazy."

"You keep on using that language and I'll be forced to...uh...hang you from the ceiling and flay all the skin off your back with a potato peeler..."

She fell silent, staring down at her bare feet, feeling the bile bubble in her stomach again. He reached over to touch her elbow reassuringly.

"I was just joking," he said softly. "Your too pretty to kill."

"Oh gee, thanks."

She laid down next to him and tucked her head under his arm, wrinkling her nose up slightly. He began humming again, half singing when he could be bothered and she tuned into the words;

_Brown sugar, why do you taste so good? Brown sugar, just like a young girl should..._

That wasn't funny. That was fucking sick. But she found herself sniggering anyway. She felt like a school-girl laughing at some stupid sex-joke.

"We smell awful," she told him and he made a tutting noise.

"If we are to fornicate my dear, the whole world should know as soon as they walk by...!"

"Why? That's weird..."

"No it is not. If we smell, we smell, what's it to them? They don't like it, they can all just _fuck off_."

She smiled.

"Oi...I'll cut your tongue out if your not careful..."

"Would you wear it around your neck to remember me by?"

The bloody image flashed like neon lights in her mind's eye, making her shudder violently. Sighing, she turned around to bury her head into his armpit, trying to block out his constant noise. She thought she heard him laughing again.

So this was it, huh?

This was her new life was it? This is how she was to live from now on? Always...terrified of what he might do next. Of the idea he might grow bored with her and then god knows what he'd do. And if he were to fall in a blaze of bullets and gunfire, he was sure to drag her down by the ankles with him. They'd fester together like animals in the mud and no-one would ever care.

But still...

Still.

Sometimes...she just felt she was growing closer and closer to enlightenment, every second she spent with him. Closer to finally understanding everything he did. Everything he knew. She wasn't there yet. Not even close. But maybe one day she'd open her eyes and see the world like she was supposed to. See it like he saw it. To see it his way...

And maybe then...maybe then she'd be truly happy. Truly free. She didn't know. She just didn't know.

All she could do was move closer to him across the dirty floor and let the filthy, rotting darkness crawl in and claim her whole. And all she could ever do was hope. ~

* * *

><p><strong>AN Apologies to those who read this before I took it down again. I had to do a lot more proof-reading then what I had done. Also, the Joker was singing Brown Sugar by the Rolling Stones for all who are interested. Hope you all enjoyed yourselves...and please go easy on me. This is literally the first smut I've ever posted so...if it sucks I'm sorry. XD. Anyway, peace out!**


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